


pressure

by myrosebudboy



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrosebudboy/pseuds/myrosebudboy





	pressure

Eleven. You’re eleven years old and not even eleven, really, and in what feels like your millionth orphanage and you’re a mage. You’ve just learned you’re a mage and you’re barely eleven but suddenly a whole world full of people is looking to you. Is counting on you.

You grab at the thin covers on your bed and something huge feels like it’s about to tear its way out of you. The man in front of you won’t stop talking and talking and talking but it’s faded into white noise because you can’t believe someone is _talking to you._ He says words like _you’re special_ and _magic_ and you can’t help but wonder if this is all a huge prank, if this is all meant to trick you because it’s happened before but two minutes pass, three minutes pass, ten minutes pass and no one shrieks with laughter and you don’t have to curl up to hide the ache in your chest.

You’ve been chosen, you’re the one, you’ve got abilities you never knew you had, powers you never thought could be real. (Things that no one bothered to tell you.) You’re stronger than anyone in a world you learned of ten minutes ago. You’re destined to save people you don’t even know.

And yet your mind dances around in wonder, of spells and castles and quests and glory and _it’s all real, it’s all real_. And suddenly noise comes crashing back into your ears and this man talks too fast too much but you’re catching every moment with your mouth wide open like his words are the food you haven’t ever had enough of and you’re so, so hungry.

You’re their saving grace and yet you don’t know what they are - no, who they are. What they do, how they live, how they think, nothing, you know nothing at all, and _how are you supposed to save the world if you know nothing at all_ , but no, if it is destined, then it must be, you must save the world, you must you must you must. Destiny is destiny, the man in front of you repeats, destiny is destiny, and you nod your head because you’re ten going on eleven and you’ve still got enough naivety and hope left in your head that you’ll believe anything if someone tells you enough times.

The door shuts and you’re still frozen in place with your knuckles white, face white, eyes wide, with the promise of more to come hanging in the air.

You’re ten going on eleven, and you change orphanages every year, and you don’t have any friends and you clutch the cotton blankets tight on cold nights and pray for something better and wish on the city lights that blot out the shooting stars, and you’re ten going on eleven and you have to save the world.


End file.
